


Shorten the Distance

by lightgetsin



Category: Vorkosigan Saga
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-12
Updated: 2009-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightgetsin/pseuds/lightgetsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're not going to frighten me." Laisa paused, reconsidered. "You're not going to frighten me <i>off</i>."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shorten the Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a quick pinch hit for [](http://queenortart.livejournal.com/profile)[**queenortart**](http://queenortart.livejournal.com/) in the Bujold ficathon. Thanks to [](http://quietann.livejournal.com/profile)[**quietann**](http://quietann.livejournal.com/) for beta, and organizing the exchange.

Gregor met her in the east wing foyer, displacing the armsman at her elbow and bringing both their entourages to a brief halt so he could kiss her good morning.

"Oh," Laisa said, wondering how it was he could make even that quick, chaste touch so ardent. "I didn't know you would be joining us."

"I'm not," he said, tucking her hand through his elbow and drawing her towards the stairs. "I have to settle an issue between Counts Vordavon and Vorpatril over a shipyard incident last month – and exactly when parking disputes became my purview, I'd like to know." He gave her one of those fleeting half smiles. "Also, I was pointedly not invited."

"All the better to talk about you, don't you know," Laisa said. She took in his uncharacteristic flow of chatter and the stillness about his eyes in some alarm; she rather thought that would be white-lipped, quaking nerves in another man.

"Hmm," he said. "Perhaps. I think you'll find other things to talk about, though."

Laisa inhaled quietly between her teeth, but they were already turning into a sunlit sitting room and a tall, red-haired woman was striding to meet them.

"Dr. Toscane," she said, extending both hands and clasping Laisa's warmly between them.

"Vicereine," Laisa said. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Oh, call me Cordelia, please. Only right," she added, as Laisa nodded and extended the same courtesy. "Formality just gets in the way in the trenches, you know." And with that alarming statement she swept on to Gregor, inspecting him carefully and then drawing him into a hug. Laisa smiled involuntarily, obscurely warmed – this was the first time she'd ever seen anyone hug him.

"Oh, I have missed you, love," the Countess said, patting his cheek familiarly. "But we can catch up later. Do run along with you and let us girls have a nice chat, won't you?" And with that firm dismissal she separated them as neatly as a champion sheepdog and herded Laisa towards the table.

Laisa had never seen anyone else do _that_, either.

She glanced back at him in time to see his rueful smile. He caught her looking and kissed his fingertips to her, then closed the door quietly after himself as he left. Laisa could feel a faint flush as she hastily took her seat under the Countess's watchful gaze.

Lady Alys, uncharacteristically silent until then, offered her the basket of warm muffins. "Well," she said briskly, adding a splash of milk to the Countess's tea without asking. "How do things progress on Sergyar, Cordelia? Gregor is quite pleased with your first production factory, as I'm sure he told you. Did you know that Laisa did her graduate work on building interplanetary trade relationships between societies at disparate levels of development?"

"I did," the Countess said. "An excellent and innovative thesis, if you'll accept a lay opinion."

"Thank you," Laisa said. She had no doubt the Countess had read her entire thesis, along with her subsequent publications, work evaluations, financial documents, shopping lists, and doubtless whatever ImpSec could resurrect of her adolescent stabs at poetry. The Countess herself, on the other hand, was the most elusive of figures with stunningly few public comments to her name and the same blandly official biography everywhere Laisa had looked. All Laisa knew of her was gathered via the implied reflections in her fascinating and peculiar son, and the fact that her approval seemed to matter to Gregor more than anyone else's. Including her absent husband's.

"I'm sure you've been told that your background will make you an asset to Gregor," the Countess said dryly. "Entirely leaving as wrote the things he will be able to do for you."

Laisa found herself smiling. She'd noticed that glaring omission, too. "I want to be more than a public asset to him," she said.

"Good," the Countess said. "Because in this case I hope you realize that more is the very least that will do."

"Yes," Laisa said. "Which is why I've been so eager to meet you. You were like me once – an outsider marrying into the Vor – and I hope to learn from your experience."

The Countess set her teacup down. "Yes, I imagine you do," she said. "And there's a great deal I can tell you. I can tell you that I am little more than a piece of Aral's chattel to thousands of people I have never met. I can tell you that my husband's office nearly cost my son his life, and the price it did exact is still being calculated. I can tell you what is actually true of Prince Serg, though perhaps I ought leave that to Gregor. I can tell you how his mother died – it was just a few hundred feet north of here, you know. I was there." She paused, and Laisa half-expected Lady Alys to step in and cut off this talk, inappropriate to the brunch table. But Lady Alys was silent, eyes serenely on her hands as she buttered a scone. "Has Gregor told you about any of this?" the Countess asked.

"Some," Laisa said, hoping the effort of steadiness didn't show.

"Good boy," the Countess murmured. "He cares for you more than for having you."

"You're not going to frighten me." Laisa paused, reconsidered. "You're not going to frighten me _off_."

"I certainly hope not." The Countess cast a fond look up the table. "Alys calls me in to be Betan at people sometimes, you know," she confided. "I think in her sphere I'm the equivalent of the 95th airborne division, loaded for blunt."

Laisa laughed – mostly at Lady Alys's expression – but she privately thought a precision laser scalpel was more appropriate.

"You do tend to . . . shorten the distance between point A and point B," Lady Alys said, and the two shared a smile. There were decades of friendship there. Laisa had lately been getting a very close-up view at the formal scenery of the Vor power structure; she rather thought now she was seeing the hidden buttresses and concealed joints, the invisible architecture of outward stability. She could be a part of that. She _must_ be, she was beginning to think.

"I appreciate it," Laisa said candidly. "Many people have been very . . . elliptical." Poor Gregor, so eager for her to meet this person of supreme importance to him, yet also so afraid. As if she would be frightened off now; as if she _could_ be.

The Countess smiled a little unpleasantly. "I think you are peculiarly positioned to discover, as I did, that when you are not expected to have thoughts at all, you can think whatever you please." She grinned over at Alys. "There now. Have I covered everything of note, or do you think we ought to talk about sex, too?"

Lady Alys pressed her lips together, and Laisa hid her laugh in her teacup. She was tempted to encourage the Countess, just for the novelty in these weeks of staid politeness.

"I should also point out," the Countess sailed on, "that I just got here. Gregor hasn't yet had a chance to order me not to tell you any embarrassing stories about him."

Laisa leaned forward in unfeigned eagerness. "I was beginning to think they didn't exist," she said.

"Well, he was lucky in that Miles was often around, and could generally be counted on to devise a mess five times noisier than anything Gregor could attempt." She grinned. "But he had his moments. I imagine he hasn't told you about his first crush? Ha, thought not."

And so it was that the armsman found them laughing when he rapped politely and put his head in half an hour later.

"The Emperor has finished with his appointments, and would like to know if he may join you," he said, looking to the Countess.

"Please," the Countess said. "Though do also reassure him that she has not fled precipitously to an Escobaran convent."

"Milady," the armsman said, straight-faced, and withdrew.

"Thank you," Laisa said spontaneously into the silence, still smiling. She was grateful for too many things to say out loud – for this hand extended in friendship, for the rare treat of talking about Gregor like a real human being, for the gift of raising a wonderful man. She could see that now. She had wondered a bit at Gregor before; it had felt as if he must have sprung in full, marvelous blossom from the inhospitable bosom of this strange planet. She knew more of where he had come from, now.

"Hmm," the Countess said. She eyed Laisa, head to one side. "You will spend the rest of your life with ImpSec monitoring the Oxygen particles in your every breath," she said. "You will become public property; you will divert all your ambitions to him, and through him to the Barrayaran Empire; your children will be the targets of madmen. And yet you thank me?"

"Yes," she said, and then turned to smile at him where he stood, tall and still in the doorway. He smiled back, a small, strained, heartfelt thing, and came to lay a hand on her shoulder. _Do you believe me yet_? She thought, looking up at him. Probably not. _I am breathless, I am astounded, I am careless of all just to be near you but I've never taken more care in my life_ . . .

The Countess beamed impartially at them, then came around the table to kiss Gregor's cheek and, warmly, Laisa's. "Well done," she said. "Now don't screw it up. Come along, Alys, let's leave them be for a bit." And she swept out, humming.


End file.
